


Because My Dreams Are Bursting At The Seams

by jono74656



Series: Dream Lover [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dreams and Fantasies, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:03:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jono74656/pseuds/jono74656
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Stiles interrupts a witch's spell, he winds up taking a stroll through his friends' dreams.</p><p>It's certainly enlightening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because My Dreams Are Bursting At The Seams

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this one came from. 
> 
> Set during an alternate summer after season 2 of Teen Wolf. Basically Jackson's still around. Erica isn't dead, and she and Boyd are not prisoners of the Alpha Pack. 
> 
> The Alpha Pack postured a bit then ran away after Deucalion was savaged by a pissed off seeing-eye dog.
> 
> Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own Teen Wolf.

Because My Dreams Are Bursting At The Seams

 

Stiles looked down at his own body and tapped an incorporeal foot in annoyance. When Deaton had come to them with the warning that there was a witch preying on the residents of Beacon Hills, murdering them in their sleep through the Freddie Kruger-esque means of African Dream Root, he'd made it clear that the wolves couldn't stop her. 

She was ancient, and powerful, and could turn them into wolf-skin rugs without any effort on her part. Instead, it was up to Stiles to once again use his indefinable 'Spark' to beat her at her own game. 

Things had, for once, gone pretty much according to plan. Stiles had slowly crept through the woods of the preserve until he was within eyesight of the clearing she was using as her ritual space. Once he was there, the wolves had started howling all round the preserve, making one hell of a ruckus and diverting the witch's attention for a few moments. Thankfully, that had been long enough for Stiles to get close enough to use the talisman Deaton and Morrell had provided to strip her of her powers. Permanently.

That was where it had all gone wrong. 

She'd been in the middle of casting her dream-murdering spell when he'd taken away her magick, and the forces she'd been manipulating had responded by going straight for the next person with even a spark of power. Stiles. 

His consciousness had been ejected from his body, which had collapsed in a heap even as the pack tore out of the woods and Derek slashed open the witch's throat. 

The pack had gathered around his still form, and Stiles had been honestly surprised by their genuine grief for him in the seconds it took for Derek to verify that his heart was still beating, just incredibly slowly. At that, Scott had scooped him up and run full-tilt for Deaton's clinic, where Deaton had examined him and pronounced that he'd obviously been affected by whatever spell the witch had been using to carry out her murders.

He'd also said that the spell should wear off by sunrise, and there was nothing to do but let Stiles' body rest while his spirit wandered loose under the effects of the spell. Stiles himself wasn't too reassured since Deaton had used 'should' instead of 'would', but since he couldn't make himself heard by anyone he kept his opinion to himself.

(Alright, he stamped around the clinic flailing his hands and hypothesising wildly at the top of his lungs for several minutes. But since no-one saw or heard it, it didn't happen.)

For a lack of anything else to do he'd followed Scott home when the pack had split up for the night. The McCall house was as familiar to him as his own home, and he felt safe there, even as a disembodied spirit. 

When Scott had changed for bed Stiles had taken the opportunity to run appreciative eyes over his friend's body. For all the crap it had brought into their lives, being a werewolf agreed with Scott. He might be the closest thing Stiles had to a brother, but that didn't mean Stiles couldn't appreciate him on an aesthetic level. 

(Well, maybe not purely aesthetically. But he wasn't going there. He was sure he'd like a little freak with his sneak, but incest was going a bit too far.)

Then Scott had settled down, curling up hugging a pillow- and if he murmured “Allison” then Stiles wasn't going to tell anyone- and dropping off to sleep almost immediately. Being a werewolf was exhausting after all.

About an hour after Scott fell asleep, his eyes began to twitch rapidly behind their closed lids, and Stiles frowned as he felt a strange tugging sensation in his chest. He found himself drawn to stand over Scott, leaning in towards his friend before he was suddenly dragged off his feet, falling towards Scott's sleeping form and sinking into him as the world went dark for a long moment.

….......................................................

When he was aware again Stiles blinked in shock at the scene that presented itself. He was in Scott's room, but it had looked cleaner and tidier than it ever had in Stiles' long experience of his bro. There were candles lit around the room, and they were the only source of light, casting a soft glow over the room and giving it a decidedly romantic atmosphere.

The reason for the romantic atmosphere was immediately revealed when the door swung open and a giggling Allison was ushered inside by a grinning Scott, the two of them tumbling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs as they kissed deeply and passionately. Stiles averted his eyes on instinct , but found himself drawn back in by the moans and gasps of Scott and Allison. He blushed when he saw Scott sitting back to strip his shirt off, before he leaned back in, hands running down Allison's back and taking the zip of her dress down as he went. Allison wriggled in a very attractive way, and kicked the dress off, leaving her in just her panties, and Stiles stared.

Her skin was milky pale and absolutely flawless, her breasts high and tight, and her back arched when Scott palmed her breasts, leaning back in to kiss her hard, taking her back until her head hit the pillow and he could settle between her eagerly spread legs.

Stiles' eyes bulged in shock when Scott's door opened and he came through it, grinning at Scott and Allison and climbing up on the bed, settling in behind Allison, leaning over her shoulder so he could kiss Scott, then meeting Allison's upturned mouth when Scott pulled away to focus on Allison, rolling her breasts in his hands and tweaking her nipples, her moan being swallowed by Stiles himself.

The shock of seeing himself involved in a threesome with his best friend and his best friend's girlfriend caused a strange tightness to build in his chest, and everything went dark again.  
…...................................................

He came to standing over a sleeping Scott, in a room without candles and romantic atmosphere, a room that was simply Scott McCall, and understanding came to him in an instant. He'd been inside Scott's dream. The witch's spell had given him the ability to enter people's dreams just as she had, only Stiles wasn't planning to kill anyone with it.

Stiles hardly had time to blink before he felt the sensation of a hand grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, dragging him forward through the walls of the McCall house and into the night. He soared through the night sky above Beacon Hills towards the brighter concentration of lights that marked out the more influential neighbourhoods in town, where families like the Whittemores and Martins lived.

He soon found himself homing in on one particular cluster of lights, and moments later he drifted through the walls of the Martin home, drawn through various rooms until he entered a softly lit library. A large leather couch sat in one corner, bracketed by bookshelves, and Lydia and Jackson were both curled up on it, breathing softly in slumber.

He crossed the room to stand over them, unsure which of their dreams had reached out to him from across town and called him here, then startled when they shifted until Lydia was spooning Jackson, and their heads were resting gently against each other. At the same tightness gripped his chest and he plummeted forward, passing seemingly straight through Jackson's head and into Lydia's.

…...................................................................

Lydia's dream was set in the library, but she was sat upright and alert on the couch, dressed not in one of her usual queen bee outfits, but in a gorgeous dress and thigh high boots which had Stiles drooling immediately. One delicate hand held the end of a leash, and Stiles' eyes followed it down to the floor, where a naked Jackson was curled up at Lydia's feet, the leash connected to a black leather collar around his neck.

Lydia stirred, tugging on the leash until Jackson rose slowly to all fours, dick bobbing full and heavy between his legs as he waited for his mistress. Lydia stood in one smooth movement, and began to strut across the room, Jackson following loyally at her side. They were heading towards a wing-back armchair which stood in the opposite corner of the room, an armchair inhabited by a definitely masculine figure.

Stiles found himself unable to look away from the proof of the figure's masculinity. If anything proved this was a dream that dick did. Even porn stars would blink incredulously at it.

As they neared the chair, he could see that while the figure had the body of a particularly well-endowed Greek god, the face kept shifting. First it was Scott, then his face melted smoothly into Derek's, then Danny made an appearance. Danny's face stayed in place for several moments, but by the time Jackson was kneeling at the feet of the seated figure, with Lydia looking on approvingly, it was Stiles' face on the figure, eyes glowing gold in the dim light as 'he' stared down at Jackson.

'He' glanced up at Lydia for a second, and upon receiving a tilt of the head and a vaguely lecherous smirk, tangled a hand into Jackson's hair and dragged him forward until Jackson's nose was pressed against his pubic hair and Jackson's ridiculously pouty pink lips were wet and slick against 'his' cock.

For a long second, Jackson's face seemed to take on aspects of the kanima, as his jaw apparently unhinged, allowing him to swallow that obscenely large cock to the base in one movement, throat bulging as it stretched around the massive length. Stiles watched his own face twisting with pleasure as Jackson's throat made swallowing motions around 'his' cock, and 'his' fingers gripped firmer and began using Jackson's hair to work his mouth up and down 'his' cock. Jackson's eyes glimmered with tears as his mouth and throat were brutally used, and Lydia's breathing began to speed up, chest heaving as she watched.

Stiles' eyes widened as 'his' hand pulled Jackson down hard, hips pumping up into Jackson's mouth as Jackson released muffled moans and Lydia groaned loudly, eyes fixed on the obscene cock pistoning in and out of Jackson's flushed and swollen lips.

A moment later, 'his' head thrown back in ecstasy, the god-like figure wearing Stile's face yanked Jackson off 'his' cock and began to stroke his cock as one of Lydia's delicate hands held Jackson's head still, tilted submissively backwards with his wide blue eyes staring straight at the head of the figure's mammoth cock.

Stiles felt the now familiar tugging sensation just as the figure's cock pulsed in 'his' hand, spattering Jackson's classical features with gobs of spunk that smeared into his hair and dripped down into his hungrily open mouth. He was licking his lips as everything went black for Stiles and he reappeared in the Martin's dimly lit library, stood next to the couch.

…............................................................................................

It took him a moment to realise that he was now stood next to Jackson, as opposed to Lydia, which suggested that while he'd entered Lydia's dream he'd somehow exited Jackson's. It took him several seconds longer to put together that that meant they were somehow sharing the same dream, and that on some level Jackson wanted to be treated that way, and wanted Lydia to orchestrate it.

Mind still reeling from that realisation, Stiles lurched as he was pulled sideways through the walls of the Martin home and into the night sky. He floated above the roofs of the town towards a part of town he visited infrequently as part of being Danny's chem lab partner, and was unsurprised when he descended towards the Mahealani residence, sinking through the roof and into Danny's bedroom.

Stiles' jaw had dropped even before he hit the carpet as he took in the sight of Danny, sprawled out on top of his bedsheets stark naked, every inch of gloriously tanned skin revealed to Stiles' avaricious eyes. He knew he shouldn't look, but he couldn't bring himself to look away as he drifted towards Danny; having just enough time to note the rapid movement of his eyes behind their lids before he spiralled down into Danny's thoughts and everything went dark.

…..............................................................................................

When he opened his eyes in Danny's dream he was surprised, until now everyone's dreams had been set in the same location they were sleeping, but Danny's was taking place in the Beacon Hills High locker room, with the entire lacrosse team present in various states of undress. Jackson was, as usual, strutting around naked with all the forced confidence of a teenage alpha male. Across the room Scott casually slouched out of the shower area with a towel hanging low on his hips, Isaac swaggering after him with his slung even lower, threatening at any moment to just fall away. 

Greenberg, sat on a bench next to where Stiles had appeared, was staring disconsolately at Coach Finstock's office door with a kicked puppy expression on his face.

He stood watching as the locker room slowly cleared out, Danny dithering and fiddling with his phone so he took as long as possible; until Coach had come in and left with a pathetically panting Greenberg in tow, spouting his usual nonsense. Danny stayed until a breathless representation of Stiles himself staggered in from the pitch, clearly the victim of a number of suicides from Coach before having to clean up the equipment.

'He' headed straight for the showers, not bothering to acknowledge Danny or indeed anything else except the possibility of a refreshing post-practice shower. 'He' shed his uniform en route to the showers and dumped it in a heap on the nearest bench as Danny's eyes grew progressively wider; when the boxers joined the heap Danny stared at 'his' swaying ass and gulped as he reached down to adjust his obviously hardening cock.

As the sound of running water started coming from the shower area, Danny stood and allowed the towel to slip from around his waist, showing off an impressive hardon before he headed for the showers, whistling, with a smile on his face and a sway in his hips.

Stiles followed him towards the sound of running water, but barely had time to see a a gob-smacked expression on his own face as a naked Danny strode into the spray next to him, before he was tugged backwards into darkness.

…..............................................................................

He was ejected from Danny's dream into his bedroom and had just enough time to note the hardon Danny was sporting before he caught sight of sunlight glimmering through the window. Moments later he was dragged through the walls of the Mahealani home and soared through the lightening sky back to Deaton's clinic, sinking through the walls and into the room where his unconscious body lay.

Deaton and Morrell were slumped in chairs sleeping softly, but they stirred as the sunlight came through the windows and hit them, Morrell looking around and staring straight at Stiles' spirit as it drifted closer to his body. She leaned over and muttered something quietly to Deaton, who nodded and headed for the clinic phone, probably to alert the pack.

Morrell's dark eyes were solemn as she watched Stiles' spirit rejoin his body, and after a long second of total blackness he forced his eyes open, blinking in the daylight and meeting her gaze calmly. She stared at him for several heartbeats then nodded slowly; 

“The witch's spell must have been badly constructed, it's affected you more permanently than it should.”

She stood as though to leave, but he halted her with a firm gesture,

“Can the cryptic bullshit, what does that mean?”

She sighed,

“It means, Mister Stilinski, that with practice you should be able to dreamwalk at will, without the need for further rituals or spellcasting. Be cautious, else you might end up abusing this power like the witch did.”

Stiles took a step backwards, and she took the opportunity to disappear before he could press her for any more information about this latest addition to his mysterious 'spark-ness'. 

Before he could put any thought into the situation the doors to the clinic burst open and Scott tore through them and hurdled the furniture in the way of him hugging Stiles; burying his nose in the hollow of Stiles' throat and breathing deep, reassuring himself that his friend was alive and alright. Stiles could feel him shaking as they clung together, then Scott pulled away and just stared at Stiles.

Stiles smiled and patted him on the back reassuringly, 

“I'm okay buddy, I'm okay.”

Scott took a deep, shuddering breath before slowly pulling away, shaky smile on his face. He wrapped an arm round Stiles' shoulder and walked him towards the door to the clinic, out into the parking lot where one of the pack had obviously parked his jeep the night before. Scott calmly loaded his bike into the back of the jeep, like he had a million times before, and they clambered into the jeep and set off for Stiles' house.

As he settled into his driving zone Stiles reflected that this dreamwalking thing could be useful, the next time something nasty came to town Stiles could zip into its dream and gut it like a fish. Plus, until he actually got a girl or boyfriend, he could rely on his friends' dreams as a source of material for his spank bank.

And maybe one day one of them would decide to do something more than dream.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm glad to get this one written. Hope you enjoy it!


End file.
